


The Standard Answer

by Catchclaw



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Boss/Employee Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-15 00:59:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16923615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: Bucky hires a new guy for Tony's security staff.





	The Standard Answer

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Protectiveness (physically or verbally defending someone; caretaking in general; bodyguard scenarios). Prompt from this [generator](http://bleep0bleep.tumblr.com/promptsnsfw).

“Who’s the new guy?”

“The new what--?” Bucky finished the Windsor and tightened it gently. “Oh, on your detail, you mean.”

Tony tipped his chin up, gives the master room to work. “Yes, the blond behemoth malingering in the hall. Where on earth did you find him?”

“The Waterstone Group, same as the others. There.” He patted Tony’s lapels. “You’re all set.”

“Hmmm. Is he ex-military?”

Bucky chuckled. “Yeah. That a problem?”

“No. I was just curious.” Tony snuck his hands under Bucky’s suit coat, pressed them against the starched white of his shirt. “You know me. I like to know everything. Besides, I think I’ve proven myself amenable to the soldier-y type, don’t you?” He kissed the tip of Bucky’s nose. “I mean, all things considered.”

“Tony,” Bucky said. A warning. “You can’t be late for your 10:30.” But his palms didn’t stir from Tony’s chest and he made no move to get away. In fact, he edged a bit closer. “Seriously. Those people from McClellan don’t play.”

“Neither do I.” Tony grinned, rubbed it against Bucky’s cheek. “I’m just eager to taste you, that’s all.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “That’s cheating.”

“Is it?” Tony scratched at Bucky’s ribs, his nails catching on cotton, and he bit gently at the tremble in Bucky’s jaw. “Oh well. So sue me.”

A snort. “I’d have to get in line.”

“Rude,” Tony said.

“Yeah?” Bucky’s fingers reached for Tony’s wrist, snatched it, tugged his hand to Bucky’s belt buckle and down. “You like it when I’m rude. Isn’t that why you hired me? Because I told you off in the interview?”

Bucky was hot already, a nudge of stiffness against Tony’s palm. He opened his fingers and squeezed, a little too hard, just to hear Bucky gasp. “It was ballsy, that’s for damn sure.”

“We’re gonna be late.”

Tony grinned and tucked his mouth against Bucky’s ear. “Not if you shut up and let me suck your cock already. How can I face these McClellan people if you haven’t come down my throat?”

“Fine,” Bucky said, “but don’t you dare get on the floor. The creases in your suit are fucking perfect.”

“Fine,” Tony said in the same tone, “I’ll sit on the edge of the bed. But you don’t get to touch me. We don’t have time for wrinkles, do we?”

They were out the door only five minutes late and if the new guy gave them a look on the way to the car, the barest hint of an eyebrow, he was smart enough not to say anything.

 

*****

Steve’s first day at Stark Tech wasn’t quite what he’d expected.

 _Standard personal security_ , was how the Waterstone people had explained it. _He’s a little eccentric, maybe, but he’s not the kind of client who’ll shake you off. He understand why you’re there and he’ll appreciate it_.

He hadn’t met the man himself before he came onboard; his interview had been Stark’s assistant, a dark-haired guy about his own age with blue eyes and a quick, sneaky smile. The guy, Bucky, was friendly but very sharp-eyed; he asked questions he already knew the answers to and paid attention Steve’s body language instead. An interrogator’s trick, Steve thought. Had this guy been in the service? Or maybe a cop?

“So you walked away as a captain,” Bucky said casually. “Can I ask why?”

“Why they made me a captain or why I left?”

That got him a grin. “Why you left.”

There was a standard answer to this; Steve gave it all the time. To his family, to friends, potential employers. People who were too nosy online. It was something flag-stirring about seeing too many of his men die, about his soul being crushed by all the suffering he saw, all the death. It was a good answer, too, based on his audience’s usual reaction: a slap on the back, a sad, knowing smile, another free drink. But something about this man, this circumstance, made the truth come sliding out:

“I was tired of being in charge.”

Bucky blinked.

“I was tired of being responsible for everything,” Steve said, the words falling out in a rush, “for everything and everybody. I never wanted to be a leader, Mr. Barnes.”

“Your service record says otherwise. You were awarded a Silver Star, weren’t you?”

“Just because you’re capable of doing a thing doesn’t mean that you enjoy it.”

The bitterness in his voice surprised him, but then, there was a reason he usually gave the standard answer: even after five years, the truth had a way of cutting him to the quick.

Bucky sat back, his charcoal suit a stark contrast to the cream of the plush club chair he sat in, one of two neatly positioned in front of his desk. “I see. But surely personal security involves some degree of bossing people around.”

“Not people,” Steve said. “One person. That’s entirely different. And often, depending on the client’s preferences, they’re the driver; I’m just the well-armed hanger on.”

Bucky laughed. “That’s one way to look at it, I guess.” He uncrossed his legs and steepled his hands, still looking amused. “There may be times when you’ll have to drag Tony somewhere kicking and screaming, but for the most part, he’ll understand why you’re there and that you do, in fact, know what’s best.” He stuck his hand out and Steve tipped forward to grasp it. “I think you two will get along famously, Captain Rogers.”

“Steve. Please call me Steve.”

Bucky nodded. His palm was dry and warm, his grip stronger than Steve would’ve guessed. “Steve it is. I’ll make sure Tony knows.”

 _Tony_. It was the second time that he’d said it, referred to his boss--one of the richest men in the world--so goddamn casually. Steve wasn’t sure what to make of it.

At least, he wasn’t until his first day on duty when he took over from the overnight body man outside of Mr. Stark’s private tower suite. Bucky had come sailing in a few minutes later, a tray of Starbucks in one hand and a briefcase in the other. He’d given Steve a smile as he reached for the door and said: “He has a 10:30. We’re leaving in ten minutes, tops.”

“Yes, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky smiled at him, that crafty one that he remembered from his interview. “Please, Steve. It’s Bucky. Only Tony calls me Mr. Barnes and that’s when he’s pissed.”

“ _Mr. Barnes_!” a voice bellowed. “Get in here. I need help with my tie.”

Bucky rolled his eyes at Steve and slipped inside and that, Steve had thought, had been that. He’d checked his watch, gotten a six on the time, and waited patiently.

He heard the murmur of talk, something that sounded like laughter, and then--

And then--

He cocked his head, frowning, and then the noise came again: a low, fevered groan, followed this time by a sharp cry of  _Tony._

Steve's face ran hot. It was Barnes's voice, unmistakable. God.

There were more words after, more sounds, but Steve did his best not to listen; he’d already gotten the jist. And when the two emerged a few minutes later--Bucky looking winded but inordinately pleased, Mr. Stark smirking and licking his lips, there was in Steve’s mind no doubt: they were a thing, Bucky and their mutual boss. As they moved towards the elevator and down to the street,  his eyes flicked over the servants, the doorman, the people milling about in front of the building; he wondered if everyone knew. Maybe he should've done his research by reading  _US Weekly_ instead of the _Wall Street Journal_. Oh crap.

It wasn't that he was opposed to people's happiness or anything, but he usually preferred his clients to be single with no children and no Tindr profile. Protecting one person fully was hard enough; add in a loved one or a partner and the job got too broad, too big.

And he'd been clear about that in his interview, hadn't he?  _I got tired of being in charge_.

He cursed himself a little for not asking more questions, for omitting the personal ones he usually peppered his prospective employers with. But then, he hadn't met with the employer in this case, had he; he'd met with Bucky Barnes. God, he thought in the lobby, as they moved through the big revolving door, that was a red flag and a half that he'd chosen blithely to ignore. He'd walked right into this mess, hadn't he?

All this and he and Mr. Stark still hadn't technically met.

"Hi," Mr. Stark said on the sidewalk, sticking his hand out. "Bucky tells me that you're Steve."

"Yes, sir," Steve said. "I am."

Mr. Stark's mouth curved up as they shook. "Well," he said, "I'm glad to have you onboard. Especially if you can get me to the office before Bucky has an aneurysm." 

"Christ," Bucky said at his elbow, practically hopping up and down. "Get in the damn car already. You're late."

"As you can see," Mr. Stark said, "my employees treat me with the utmost dignity and respect. Which is precisely what I expect from you, Steve. Is that clear?"

What the hell, Steve thought; honesty seemed to be the rule of the day. "As mud, sir."

Stark laughed and reached for the car door himself--"Finally!" Bucky spat, barreling past--and smiled up into Steve's face, a squint that touched the corner of his eyes behind dark lavender frames. "I think," he said, "that you and I are going to get along fine, don't you?"

Steve gripped the door and gave Stark a gentle shove inside. "You know, Mr. Stark," he said, a grin sneaking through the clouds, "I think we just might."


End file.
